


Biostuck

by DigitalSpectre



Category: BioShock, BioShock Infinite, Homestuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-01-26 13:18:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1689743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DigitalSpectre/pseuds/DigitalSpectre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are so many, and I can see them all.<br/>They in the darkness, scattered like the stars. <br/>They move sporadically, twitching and shaking, a glitch in the darkness.<br/>Each one has so much possibility.<br/>I can see every possibility.<br/>The littlest change, and they become something entirely new.<br/>I have to be careful with them, they're so fragile.<br/>Glass stars.<br/>A sky full of glass stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Glass Stars

There are so many, and I can see them all.  
They in the darkness, scattered like the stars.   
They move sporadically, twitching and shaking, a glitch in the darkness.  
Each one has so much possibility.  
I can see every possibility.  
The littlest change, and they become something entirely new.  
I have to be careful with them, they're so fragile.  
Glass stars.  
A sky full of glass stars.

I'm holding two in my hands.  
These two, they're so close.  
They're intertwined, connected.  
You can see, four beautiful little strings of light twisting them together.  
But these strings are poisonous,  
they're killing both of these stars.  
I have to tear the strings off.   
They won't exist anymore.

They're the most beautiful lights.  
They're so beautiful, so perfect.  
I've seen other versions of them, reflected in other stars.  
But those versions, they aren't these strings.  
These strings that I love so much.

Off goes this one,   
the one that raised me,  
loved me,  
hurt me,  
caged me,  
set me free.

Off goes this one,  
that never knew me,  
that died when I arrived,  
died because I arrived.  
This one was caged too.  
I'll set them free.

Off goes this one,  
off the leash,  
off the nightmares,  
we met so briefly,  
but I brought them grief,  
then I brought them joy.

Now I bring all three freedom,   
I bring all three death.  
They're all gone.  
They were never here.  
The worlds, all worlds, will never see those strings again.

Except, this last string.  
This string, never existed to begin with.   
But it does exist.   
It exists only here.  
Alone.

This is what I didn't tell them.  
That I would be here forever,  
With nothing but the darkness,  
and the glass stars.

These two stars,  
they're free,  
and inside I can see them,  
the others that I've met,  
they're all free,  
free from those cities,  
free to live their lives,  
free to be happy.

It's beautiful.   
It's so beautiful.


	2. Welcome to Rapture

It seemed like magic when they first arrived. They hadn't had a bad life on the surface, his big sister was a scientist, they had enough to eat and their clothes weren't torn, and when they weren't in school he and his little sister could play out in the fields. But this place, this place had seemed like something straight out of a fairy tale. 

It had to be magic. His big sister told him otherwise, that it was science, a new type of making artificial glass, electricity straight from the earth's core, a formula that encouraged tree cores to regenerate their bark and leaves even when the environment started to kill them. But he didn't believe her. It was magic.

Their lives were nice. They lived in a fancy apartment and woke up to large windows full of fish and the sparkling lights from all the other buildings. He would pick up Rose and sit with her on a little bench in front of the living room window, pointing out all the different kinds of fish. Squid were her favorite, he took so many pictures of squid for her, gluing them together in massive collages that Roxy framed and hung on Rose's walls. He didn't get to see much of Roxy after Dirk disappeared. She spent most of her time working, so it was just him and Rose.

He never told Roxy that he felt lonely. He had friends. The troll girl who could talk to the dead would sit with him and look at pictures of fossils. The two of them would find the troll girl who liked cats and the three of them would catch mice together. He was awkward acquaintances at best with the sweaty horse kid. He had people to talk to. But that was at school, and none of them lived close to their apartment. It was all wealthy adults there, and he and Rose were on their own. 

Every morning the two of them would walk, hand in hand, through the city and into one of the bathyspheres. It would take them weaving through the water, and Rose would sit near the door and whisper stories about whatever caught her interest that day. Sometimes her stories were strange, and he thought some of them were downright unsettling, but he listened because she was his little sister and all they really had was each other. 

He didn't like when they separated to go to their classes. She always looked so small, and he always felt like if he wasn't right by her side she'd disappear. Her teacher would assure him that everything was perfectly fine, that his mother (sister) paid for the best, safest education for both of them, and then he'd be shooed to his classes. They were bullshit, most of them, frequently trying to brainwash the kids into following the city leader's personal world view. The only class he really liked was music. He felt free, and sometimes he thought that maybe he didn't mind that the city seemed sort of, fucked up, if it allowed for people to really make the music that they felt like making.

The day felt weird.

The waters seemed to be completely silent, even with all of the life swarming in the ocean's depths. There just, wasn't any sound. His classmates were shouting and arguing over the newest assignment, but he just didn't feel like there was any noise. It was, still. The sort of stillness that occurs when there's a predator in the water. Something was wrong. He didn't know what, or where, or why, but, he just knew. 

Time was too slow. The bell rang like it was stuck in a tar pit, and he rose from his chair, pushing up through the heavy soil of his lifeless desk. Time was hooking into him, holding him back, slowing him down, and he began to panic. This wasn't right. This wasn't normal. Where was his sister? Where was Rose? He needed to get to her, something bad could happen. Roxy had been warning them more frequently to never leave the house alone, especially Rose. He remembered the look in his sister's eyes when she pulled him aside. The fear. The guilt. The numbness. 'Don't leave Rose's side ever Dave. Not even for a moment. If you do, then we'll never see her again. She'll be lost forever.'

Lost.

Forever.

He ran as quickly as he could, the blood in his veins freezing, colder than the water just beyond the glass. There was no time, he was out of time, he knew it in his very core. He could run at the speed of light, but light didn't glimmer willingly at the bottom of the ocean. It had to be tricked, lured, captured.

Kidnapped.

Gone.

Rose was gone.

He knew where they were taking her. Fontaine's Futuristics. To the little sister school. They were making his little sister into, into an actual Little Sister. He couldn't let that happen. He had promised, promised that he would protect her. He wasn't going to fail her. He'd get Rose back and she'd never have to be afraid again. They'd leave the city for good, go back to their old lives on the surface. Everything would be okay. He just needed to find her.

Follow the Light.

The Light in the depths.

Is it angel.

Or angler.

Time was going too fast now. No matter how fast he moved it outpaced him. He was taking too long. He was taking too long and he knew that she was already there. She was already there and it did not take them long to change them. He had long ago abandoned his things, hoping a few dropped books would give him the speed he needed to race the clock. But every tick was an incision. Every tock was a stitch. The bell rang and a slug formed a symbiotic relationship that couldn't be broken. At least, not yet. Roxy was trying, she was trying so hard, but...

She needed to be deep into the void to find her answers. And where there's no light it's hard to see.

It was hard to see with the sentry lights blaring in his eyes.

Hard to see when forceful hands dragged him inside.

Hard to see through the tears when she looked into his eyes.

"I can see the light. It's dancing."

He couldn't see, at first.  
The helmet was heavy.  
The window was small.  
His eyes were full of ADAM.  
It hurt to open them.

But he could see her.  
She was smiling, and laughing, and singing about angels.  
She wanted his hand.   
He gave it to her.  
He promised to protect her. And he always would.


	3. Bring us the Boy, Wipe Away the Debt

"Can you stop laughing and row?"

"I don't want to row, dickcheese."

"Fuck you."

"I never row."

"Never?"

"Never."

"Fuck you twice."

"Heh heh."

Their conversations were hardly entertaining. He couldn't remember exactly how long they'd been at sea, or why he had agreed to jump into a rowboat instead of demanding that they find some better way of getting to their destination. As it was, they were trapped on an aggravating journey that he had to tolerate with no clear idea of how much longer he must suffer in silence. After all, it wasn't a gentlemanly thing to snap at your employers. He needed their money and they needed him to, do what he did best. Activities of questionable legality without asking any questions himself. At least, from his understanding, their presence in his life was a temporary one. He would be left to perform his task as soon as they were assured that he was on his way.

He couldn't understand what these two wanted with this boy he was to find. They were two trolls, which blood he wasn't sure. The one closer to him was the taller of the two, with wild hair kept tamed until a bright yellow hat. He seemed, antagonistic, and the other one seemed about ready to push him out of the boat. The other troll's hair was tamer, and he only wore a pair of strange, two colored glasses. He was more reserved, rarely starting any of their conversations. If he had to pick which troll he preferred, it was the shorter one. But it was the taller one that turned around, handing him a wooden box. 

"We're almost there."

A gun, an index card with a strange serious of numbered symbols, and a photograph. A young man smiled from the image, glasses resting loosely on his nose. His hair seemed in great need of brushing, and his tie was a little crooked. The boy had some edges, but he looked to be a decent sort. Why he would be the target of a pair of men like this he wouldn't know. It couldn't be something good though. If they were willing to get in between him and those ribbon loving gymnastic freaks they weren't the type to seek out any well behaved child. Or perhaps the child was only a means to an end. The more he stared at the picture, the more he questioned himself.

No. No, not now. He couldn't let his morals come up now, not when they'd failed to show up for so long. He had a job. A job that promised a clean slate. All of the baggage that weighed him down before would disappear and he would finally be free. He had no proof that this kid wouldn't just get a carefree life too. For all he knew this would turn out great. Maybe he'd end up a mob boss, or at least, not dead. He couldn't think about it. He tucked the gun at his belt, the postcard and picture when into the inside pocket of his vest. The box was tossed on the floor of the boat.

"On the floor this time."

"I win."

"Shut up."

Out of the fog rose a lighthouse, tall and solemn, barren of any decoration save for an ornate fencing at the top. The light barely cut through the thick mist,appearing only when they were already close enough to whack the dock with a paddle. It didn't look like anyone could live there, forget the kid. But they steered the boat up to a ladder, impatiently muttering to each other as they waited for him to exit.

"Is he going to move?"

"Usually."

"Hey fuckwit get your loser ass off our boat."

"Maybe this one doesn't know how. You should show him."

"I'm going to shove you into the ocean."

"But you won't."

"I should've. Why are you still in here get out!"

He sighed and carefully climbed up the soaking ladder, pausing to watch them row away. "Is someone coming to get us?" He shouted after them, frowning as the tall one began laughing. The shorter one called as he rowed.

"I hope so Mr. Egbert. I wouldn't want to be stranded out here."

Egbert watched them until they were long one, and a heavy rain began to dent his clothes and weigh him down. He slid a few times running to the lighthouse door, rain quickly slicking the little rocky island. It was a relief to be out of the rain. The inside was barely more decorated than the outside. Needlepoint Tapestries hung about the place, leading him up the stairs.

"Wash away your sins, and the ones you wait for shall come to you. What does that even mean?" He muttered, staring into the water filled sink. He sighed and began to search, opening the few cupboards that were downstairs before beginning to seek the boy out on the higher floors.The further he went the more he doubted that the boy was still there. Someone had worked the place over, destroying any piece of furniture the lighthouse keeper once had. There was money everywhere though, and he pocketed every one of the strange silver coins. Whoever had done this wasn't doing it for simple change. The body of a beaten old man proved it. Those trolls weren't the only ones who valued the boy.

From the bottom floor out to the balcony with the light spinning slow into the sea, James had searched every inch of the lighthouse. The boy was gone. He supposed that it would be too easy to just find him waiting at the lighthouse. But where would he go from here? His clients hadn't given him any more information than what he had in his pockets. The photograph, and the postcard. Maybe that was where he should go. Monument Island. But where... Egbert sighed in frustration, pausing when he realized the sound of the spinning lens had gone quiet. The light was still, and the door to check it adorned with three bells. A spiral, a pair of wings, a leaf. Wait.

The back of the card, the symbols. A spiral, times two, a pair of wings, times one, a leaf, times two. "A way to summon a ride out of here. And maybe they'll actually take me straight to this island. I guess it won't be so bad after all." He rang the bells, turning to gaze at the sea and catch the approach of his way out.

The first honk brought him to his knees. He stared up in a mixture of terror and confusion as the skies shouted at him, lights dominating the darkness of the storm. The bell door slid aside, and a chair emerged from beneath the lens. Which, didn't really make sense. Why would a lighthouse keeper even have a secret chair? Unless, this was where they were keeping the boy. James began his investigation, scouring every inch. He found a lot of things, strange hinges, traces of soot and ash, heavily duty metal plates that were different from the ones next to them, but none of them bore the boy. He sighed, dropping into the chair.

His voice was torn from his throat in a loud shout as clamps suddenly fastened down on his limbs, the metal plates rising up to form an airtight casing around him. 

"Preparing to launch." 

"Launch what."

"Launching in 3..."

"No!"

"2"

"Stop!"

"1."

"LET ME OUT OF HERE."

"Blast off."

He howled as the chamber suddenly lifted, the scene outside the little window blurring as it sped up past the clouds. His eyes clamped shut and he felt himself scream out whatever air was left in his lungs.

The scene when he opened his eyes was astounding.

A city. There was a city up there. It was beautiful, floating amongst the clouds, massive statues greeting the newcomer alongside the machine's cheerful "Welcome, pilgrim." It fell into a strange tunnel, before dropping him gently into a large room. The place was, strange. Candles everywhere, and, water. Why was there so much water. He was never going to get dry at this rate.

An ivory garbed troll sat quietly at the entrance, motioning for him to follow the path throughout what was clearly a cathedral. A, somewhat, unsettling cathedral. He was never the sort for church, his life philosophies never quite included organized faith of any kind. He preferred to try to be a gentleman, although his adventurous side often caused him trouble. If he were truly gentle, he probably would have never needed to make the deals that he'd made over his lifetime. Never would've rifled through the hatbox, or snagged coins off the shrine, or listened in on someone's private audio tape in the shadows of their sanctuary.

Never would've had to take the hand of the priest with his lips shown shut, strange colors dancing in his eyes as he plunged him into the cold waters of the baptism pool. Never would've had to struggle to take a breath while everything went completely black.


End file.
